


Studied

by WaldosAkimbo



Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Bondage, Harness, Kidnap Play, M/M, Post-Movie: Pacific Rim: Uprising (2018), Trans Newton Geiszler, consensual dub-con, plug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-29
Updated: 2020-09-29
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:06:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26721859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WaldosAkimbo/pseuds/WaldosAkimbo
Summary: Hermann finds himself tied to a bed, stark naked, with one Newton Geiszler in the room, ready to study him.
Relationships: Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb
Comments: 7
Kudos: 26





	Studied

**Author's Note:**

> Is this the horniest thing I've ever written? Yes.

Hermann winced and opened his eyes with the bright lights overhead, highlighting everything in crisp white and blue. His head didn’t hurt, of course, but it was still disorientating. Worse when he discovered the configuration he was placed in. Arms above his head, tied to two sturdy posts by thick nylon cuffs belted in place, and his legs spread towards the foot of a, well, thankfully, a comfortable bed and belted the same way. The mattress, at least, was quality. There was one fitted bedsheet beneath him and a pillow for his head, but the rest of the bedding was stripped away. Of course, even a cursory tug of his wrists made it certain he was not about to be getting up to look for them.

The flair of slight panic was only increased by the simple fact that he was stark naked.

It wasn’t easy to see past himself. The lights had been set up so they focused on the bed, putting Hermann in a spotlight of sorts. He might be able to see his cane if he craned his face to the left, leaning back against the wall. There wasn’t even much furniture to speak of. A table – again, just a _little_ to the left there, Hermann, and he could spot it with his cane up against it – and a folding chair in the other corner. The rest of the room appeared to be plain solid walls. One could assume white, but it was hard to tell. The lights melted away discerning features like the faded squares where pictures might have hung or if there was a closet door on the opposite wall.

There was a click, a door opening, and Hermann flexed his hands, his bony ribs jumping with a gasp as someone entered the room. They remained on the other side of the ring of lights, making it impossible to see them beyond the inkling of a shadow.

“H-Hello?” he called out, angry at how weak and soft his voice sounded, how muted it was in the space. Worse, he burned from head to toe in shame of being displayed like this. It was edged with a fear he hadn’t anticipated. One is quite vulnerable being naked in front of a faceless stranger. One is even worse when said stranger has them tied up like an “x” on a bed. Hermann wet his lips and closed his eyes, trying again. “Hello?”

There was the soft scratch of pen on paper before a little clack. Hermann opened his eyes again and would have jumped back when he found Newton standing over him. It should have washed him with relief, but the sudden apparition made his heart leap. And Newton looked…well… _different_.

Physically, no. Not much had changed. Same dark hair, thankfully _not_ slicked back like it had been when he was working at Shao Industries. Though he was wearing one of those dark linen shirts, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, showing off old tattoos faded by the decades since they were put to skin. He had on a pair of spectacles, curiously enough, thick black frames that slid down his nose and he casually pushed back up with his index finger before he scribbled something else on a clipboard. He had on a pair of white nitrile gloves, snapped tight to his wrists. He was a little unshaven, made more apparent when he scraped his pen across his cheek. Unprofessional, wasn’t it? But, no waistcoat. No tie. No badge. A stethoscope? And something heavy in the pocket of his trousers, which were still too loose on him.

Hermann wasn’t necessarily shocked to see Newton. He had hoped…well, he expected. He expected Newton but it was seeing him like this that kept him silent. Focused on his work with such perfect attention that Hermann was hardly a person, just a thing to be studied. A quick glance around again. No strange beeping machines or gurgling samples. The place smelled clean, in fact, and was so quiet except for Hermann’s breathing, the rush of blood in his ears, and Newton’s pen.

After a few more notes, Newton set the clipboard on the bed next to Hermann and pulled his stethoscope off his neck. Hermann expected him to breathe on it, for whatever reason, to warm it up, but Newton simply laid a hand flat on Hermann’s stomach, making it jump again, and pressed the cold metal over his heart. Hermann’s breath hitched, was caught in his chest, before he let it out. The drum remained in one spot a moment, then slid over to another, resting, collecting data. He was reminded of his childhood, strangely enough. The first time he recalled a doctor listening to his heart and the terrifying thrill they might find something wrong with it. With his lungs. With him. He screwed his eyes shut before he caught Newton’s attention.

And the drum moved again. Newton’s hand remained flat and still on Hermann’s stomach. Not necessarily reassuring. Steadying.

And the drum moved again. And again. It remained on the side of his ribs for a moment. One had to wonder what exactly Newton was paying attention to. Looking for. Whatever he wanted he kept uncharacteristically mum about and seemed like he might pull away entirely when he brushed a nitrile-covered thumb over one of Hermann’s nipples, causing his skin to prickle with goosebumps. It wasn’t necessarily the nipple itself; it was the bar of metal there and Newton flicked it again, causing Hermann to arch his back in surprise before he settled back down again.

All it earned was a small, “hmm,” before Newton took up his clipboard again, turned his back to Hermann, and continued his notes.

He was at it long enough for Hermann’s breathing to calm, settling back as comfortably as he could while still tied up, his mind racing with an appropriate question. He felt shame at reacting so at that simple touch. That certainly hadn’t been Newton’s point. Was it only because it _was_ Newton? He needed to think. His skin felt so warm and so cold at the same time. He should honestly ask for a blanket. And when he opened his mouth to do as such, Newton turned around so suddenly that Hermann immediately shut his mouth again with a gulp.

Newton bent at the waist and looked across Hermann’s torso like he was leveling a table. He reached out slowly, resting his hand flat once more, just below Hermann’s belly button. His hand was so warm. It was so still, much stiller than it should ever be knowing what he knew about Newton that, for a brief moment, he was just impressed.

And then that warm palm migrated, not at all down towards Hermann’s groin, as salacious as a thought that might be in the secret depths of Hermann’s wants, but over towards his hip. It was light, ghosting over the uneven jut of his bones, and then landed directly on the faded puckers of scars. Hermann hadn’t expected Newton to take any interest in them and withered, biting his lip hard enough to hold in a whimper. He would not. He would _not_. He-

Newton’s hand was yet so warm, so gentle. It was sterile, removed, with those gloves, but the tenderness was undeniable. The way they traveled down the tight lightning-shape of it, the pits and valleys, the noticeable dips from the two worst staples of the bunch. Newton was close enough that Hermann could feel his breath on his leg, and he was loath to admit it made him feel light. Tingly. An unfortunate reaction made too evident when, still flushed a noticeable red, his cock seemed to take interest and twitched.

Newton, whatever he was doing, didn’t seem to pay that part of Hermann’s anatomy any mind. Instead, he made it to the end of the garish pattern near Hermann’s knee and then stood up again. Turned his back to Hermann, and scratched out more notes.

Hermann’s head felt too heavy. He was perplexed to feel the sting of tears at the corner of his eyes and angrily blinked them away. Instead, he focused on his wrists, looking up at the cuffs, and tugged, just to see if there was any solution to get his hands free. Another yank, something rattling, and Newton was looking at him again. He hummed unhappily, checked something on whatever document he was creating, and travelled up to the head of the bed. He reached out, touched Hermann, his thumb pressed over the center of his wrist. No doubt Newton knew the exact nerve, blood vessel, ligament and bone that he was pressing his thumb harder into. And dragged down the inside of Hermann’s arm, down to the dip of his inner elbow, his biceps, getting dangerously close to armpit, which was unfortunately ticklish. Instead of laughing, Hermann gave a short pathetic shout and tried to arch himself away from Newton’s hand.

“Huh.” Newton’s mouth twitched into an almost smile. He might have even laughed, but he calmed back down into that focused creature of before remarkably fast as he walked around the bed and repeated the actions as before, pressing Hermann’s wrist, down his forearm, his elbow. Hermann winced much sooner, expecting that little ticklish feeling to start up, but Newton’s hand disappeared, and he was walking back around the bed again, scribbling once more.

Newton took his time at the each of the limbs. It seemed he had a purpose, and that purpose was to map out every piece of Hermann, moving towards the trunk of his body with methodical precision. He would stop after inspecting Hermann’s foot, or his fingers, or the angle of his kneecap, and would write something. The more attention he spent on Hermann, the calmer Hermann’s breathing became. Not because _he_ was calmer. He was aware of all the vital organs nestled in his torso, each of them ready for Newton to decide to inspect _much, much_ closer. But there was no way to breathe as fast and hard as he was without getting dizzy and passing out and he very much needed to stay awake through all of this.

He should have said something. He should say anything. Get answers while they were so intimately close like this. But he could not form a word, let alone a sentence, and only the occasional gasp or groan escaped him when Newton pressed a little firmer here. A little softer there.

Unfortunately, when Newton’s hand travelled up the inside of Hermann’s leg, he could feel his cock twitch again. It was a perfectly normal reaction under perfectly normal situations. And this was Newton. _His_ Newton, for a few years. After the first time they closed the Breach, they had been quite intimate. It was the release of a pressure valve that was ready to burst and the excuse of saving the world finally broke them of their paltry excuses. They had even discussed marriage, briefly, but it had fallen through and things had changed for a while there.

Ten years was a very long time.

That bitter resentment should calm him down more, but his anatomy was a bastard as much as he could be and it betrayed him, the rather impressive length of himself rising up. Newton paused and almost pulled away to take a note, but he made a decision to forge ahead, pressing his fingers further up the inside of Hermann’s thigh.

There was more jewelry there, too. A little hoop, nothing outlandish or anything, just unexpected, perhaps, and Newton almost reached out to touch when he caught himself. There was apparently a protocol, and _that_ inspection was further down his list. His eyebrows furrowed as he put his hand on Hermann’s other knee and dragged his hand up the inside of his leg, a little faster, and pressed on Hermann’s good hip.

Hermann moaned. It was pure and simple. He dropped his head back and he moaned under that curious scrutiny, under the warm touch of a man he loved so dearly, even after everything they had been through. It was short, cut off with a gasp, and Hermann did his best to hide his face against his own shoulder, feeling how hot and red it was radiating against his own bicep. The reaction was enough to make Newton pull away and he shuffled a bit around the bed, snapping up his clipboard like it was his anchor.

While he was focused on his notes, Newton started to mumble something. Of course, with his back turned, it was nearly impossible to understand what he might be saying, but when he faced back around towards Hermann and Hermann could watch Newton’s mouth, he tried to pluck out the words. Not English. Not Mandarin or even Cantonese, which might be terrifying if he managed that so easily now. Not…German? It was starting to dig into Hermann’s brain, and he looked like he might be glaring at Newton.

“What are you saying?” Hermann asked, his voice quiet but firm.

Newton faltered for a second and raised one of his shoulders, still muttering as he scribbled a little faster.

“ _What_ are you saying?” he asked firmer. Newton reached out to stroke Hermann’s hip and he rocked it away as far as he could without aggravating it. “Newton!” Then, after a breath, he closed his eyes. “Cantaloupe.”

The clipboard fell to the bed, nearly clattering to the ground, and suddenly Newt was on him. Soft, warm, the weight of him as comforting as a favorite childhood blanket, and there was a kiss to the corner of Hermann’s mouth as Newt reached up and touched the cuffs.

“Everything okay? Are these too tight? Here, I—”

“No, no,” Hermann said quickly, splaying his fingers in a wide fan. He sighed again, short, only slightly frustrated and turned to brush his cheek against Newt’s until he remembered the scrub of scruff beard and pulled away again. Newt seemed to understand, cupping Hermann’s cheek, and rubbed the barely-red skin with his gloved thumb. Hermann calmed, smiling, and turned to kiss his thumb, looking up at him with big dark eyes. “They’re fine. _I’m_ fine. Just….”

“Just?” Newt asked and sat fully on the bed now so he could remain comfortably over Hermann.

“What were you _saying_?” Hermann asked through a frustrated laugh.

“Oh.” Newt chuckled and looked away, shrugging again, a few scratchy vowels hardly an appropriate answer. Hermann stretched to nudge him again with his forehead until Newton laughed, properly curling in like a cat butting against someone they loved dearly. “You…you said.”

“I say many things,” Hermann offered plainly when Newt refused to go on.

“No, I know. Just. Okay, like, we were talking about, like, sorta alien…stuff? Like, I thought the whole point was that it wasn’t _really_ me, right? These extra-terrestrials think you’re so fucking hot that they want to—”

“Oh, _Newton_ ,” Hermann grumbled, sounding for all the world annoyed even as he blushed and couldn’t make eye contact. “I don’t think—”

“I don’t have to say anything. It just felt weird.”

“You’re allowed to speak during the scene,” Hermann reminded him.

“Yeah, but, like…dude, they wouldn’t speak English.”

Hermann rolled his eyes affectionately and earned a very smile-stained kiss from Newt. Before he pulled away completely, Hermann stretching his neck to follow him. He looked down at the clipboard. “Do I get to see what you’re writing?”

Newt snatched it up quickly and pulled it further away before wagging a finger. “No, Hermann. Those are my field notes! They’re very secret. Highest clearance totally necessary.”

“I’m your husband, I—”

“Highest. Clearance. Necessary, Herms, c’mon. You know how this goes.”

Newt snorted as he turned around. Putting his back to Hermann meant he was trying to get back into the headspace he needed to play the colder, calculated parody of himself they had devised for this scene. Hermann wasn’t quite ready yet and nearly croaked his name to get his attention.

“Hmm?” Newt spun back around and was over Hermann again, all soft and sweet, his hands dancing too quickly at different spots to make sure nothing was wrong. “Yeah? What’s up? Do you need a pillow? I thought about getting one, but I didn’t think—”

“No. No,” Hermann said gently and smiled too fondly up at him. “It’s fine. It’ll be fine for a while longer. If you think this is going to last a couple of hours….”

“Hours?” Newt grimaced in a way that still made him so endearing and Hermann couldn’t help but smile at seeing it. “Yeah, I mean, I _can_. But we have the crockpot going and I was kinda hoping we could watch—”

“Kiss,” Hermann said, because he couldn’t reach up and pull him down. Newt’s eyebrows jumped up at the request. “Please.”

“Well.” Newt slowly leaned in closer, their noses nearly touching. “Okay. Only because you said ‘please.’”

Fool that he was, Newt was finally close enough and seemed to forget how limber Hermann could be when inspired. Hermann stretched up and bumped their lips together, a nearly painful start that melted soon after into something soft and sweet. Newt hummed, cradling the back of Hermann’s head, and helped him relax back down on his measly pillow, something he would gladly suffer for this ridiculous scene together.

And then, with a little parting nip, Newton pulled away. He straightened himself out, turned around, and walked out of the ring of lights, leaving Hermann to lay there, alone. Hermann closed his eyes, adjusting his hips, the way his head laid on the pillow. He thought of Newt, how terribly he loved him, how it only grew when he agreed to this experiment. How it took months to prepare it, simply because they had to clear out the guest bedroom and ensure they wouldn’t have any company for a while. They rarely did, but it was still a concern.

Lights were set up. And the first time they tried the scene with a blindfold, Hermann panicked. The second time they had medical instruments included to add a sense of “realism,” and Newt panicked. They discussed further, set out parameters. That Newt could turn away to center himself whenever he wanted. That he was permitted to bring two toys to the scene but asked not to show them until they had started, and Hermann could veto them on sight. No gags. Nothing with a blade. If it became too much, they were encouraged to use the stoplight colours to pull them out of the scene.

They never discussed what Newt would write down, what they should say to each other, and how far Newton’s inspection of Hermann’s body could go beyond the obvious of nothing dissected or vivisected. But the kiss reassured him that Newt was still comfortable enough to continue and was eager to listen in case Hermann used any of their safe words – cantaloupe because Hermann hated it and it was yellow-ish. The last time he used “lemon,” Newt had a peculiar laughing fit over it that he still hadn’t explained why it made him laugh. Either way, Hermann felt safe. He felt heard. He felt desired. He smiled and wriggled a little on the sheet.

“Alright,” he said, and waited.

It wasn’t too terribly long – long enough that Hermann worried he had convinced Newt to call this all off – before there was the sound of the door opening and closing again and Newton stepped up to the bed. He frowned, still studying his notes, and scratched something through twice. He circled the bed slowly, refusing to look at Hermann, who tracked him with his eyes the entire time, until Newton was at the little side table. Newton set down the clipboard so that his notes were turned over, the pen clipped to the top of the board. He pinched the corner of his left glove, pulling it up and over, and then the right one, before he discarded them atop the clipboard. He had very neat, clean fingernails and there was a noticeable white band of skin on one of his ring fingers. Hermann stared at it, at those blunt fingers, as Newton rubbed them together.

Then he reached out and slid his hand slowly over Hermann’s chest, same as he had done previously with the drum of the stethoscope, aligning his index and middle finger on either side of one of Hermann’s nipples. It would seem almost silly, but Newton’s face was stoically impassive, focused again, and Hermann swallowed when he felt Newton slowly pinch his fingers together around the metal of the piercing there. He rolled the metal between the blades of his fingers, then smoothed his hand back out and ran it over the top, petting down his chest. His thumb grazed in passing and Hermann closed his eyes, his throat jumping, nearly vocalizing what that gesture made him feel. Newton’s hand paused over his diaphragm and returned to try it again, flicking harder.

“Pl—”

Suddenly there was a hand on Hermann’s mouth and he jolted in real panic, his eyes opening wide. The strong, callused palm didn’t press hard, didn’t smother him, but rested there same as the other hand rested on his chest, brief, and then rose away. Newton thumbed over Hermann’s bottom lip, staring unblinking at him. He had such remarkable eyes. It was always a wonder when he let Hermann _look_. A golden green with the tiniest stripe of blue through each. The blue was damage done and they had never figured out how to reverse it, but Hermann secretly thought it quite beautiful. He never said. He didn’t get a chance to say now, as Newton seemed to read his mind and he looked away, disinterested, as he continued touching Hermann’s chest.

They might need to discuss covering his mouth again. They had agreed to no gags and Newton moved so _fast_. But Hermann wasn’t worried now. His eyes slid shut as Newton touched him, taking care to judge every reaction every time he pinched or stroked or pulled. Within moments, Hermann was breathing hard, his back arching every time Newton dragged his hand across the jewelry.

Whatever experiment Newton was performing, there was one obvious outcome. Hermann’s erection grew without much further assistance, until he was flush against his abdomen. He could feel it bob when he bucked his hips, hot and heavy and he was loathed to admit how much he wished Newton would simply touch him. If anything, it might be a terrifying, shameful relief.

And then, like sanding away whatever possible imperfections he might find on this captured specimen, Newton ran a firm hand down his side – just enough pressure not to be ticklish over the ribs, thank _gott –_ over his hip, and stopped. He was circling his thumb over the bone, his other hand gently drumming Hermann’s sternum in silent contemplation. Hermann opened his eyes again to watch, curious what Newton was considering.

Stepping back, Newton nearly crossed out of the circle of the lamps, too far in Hermann’s peripheral to see him comfortably. He could feel instead where he had perspired and how it rapidly cooled now, leaving him shivering. He forced himself to breathe deeper, to focus on the sensations, and twisted his wrist enough to feel the sting of the cuffs on his skin.

And then Newton was down at the foot of the bed. He was focused on Hermann’s ankles, that same concentrated frown he had when he was trying to find the correlation of data back in their Shatterdome days. Or likely when he was furiously working on the production line at Shao Industries, spurned forward by unseen but no less threatening forces.

“Newton,” Hermann whispered, hoping to appeal to his captor. Those same brilliant eyes snapped up to Hermann’s again and there was a moment where Hermann was convinced Newton wasn’t playing anymore. He felt dizzy and nearly called out another fruit – strawberry – before Newton reached into his pocket and walked over to the same side as Hermann’s scar, his hand up on Hermann’s thigh while avoiding the pocked tissue this time. He remained studious as he pulled out a familiar red plug that had come from their bedroom and it was the first time Hermann felt genuine relief upon seeing the silicone toy. Newton kept it up in the air, like he was presenting a Faberge egg, waiting for something. It took a moment before Hermann understood and gave a haltingly jittery nod towards the toy. Newton tossed it onto the bed the same as he did the clipboard earlier, circling around to the side table.

There was some quiet rustling and the snap as Newton gloved up with a fresh set from the table. Then a soft squelch. Newton was rubbing his fingers together, an automatic response as he returned to Hermann’s side. He kept staring at Hermann’s hip, resting his hand on Hermann’s thigh. Not rubbing it, not soothing, steadying. Waiting. Studying.

There was no denying Hermann’s automatic response either.

With all the care of a studios doctor, Newton slowly gripped Hermann’s cock at the very base of the shaft and moved his lubricated hand upwards. He still seemed quite fascinated with the jewelry, how it should either aid or deter from one’s own sexual prowess as well as their pleasure. Was he looking to study said pleasure? He seemed quite keen on understanding all reactions to the anatomy and carefully turned the jewelry until the little jeweled bead at the very end was flush against the glans, swiping away a thin, watery bead of precome with his thumb. His eyebrows furrowed and Hermann assumed he would remove his hand to write down another note. Instead, Newton squeezed a little tighter, gently pulling back down to the base, where he kept his hand a tight ring. No use lying that it excited Hermann, the evidence was clear, but Hermann still attempted to pull his legs together, knowing he should resist.

Worse when Newton reached between his legs and began to push against his entrance, easing the lubricated digit past the tight ring of muscle. Hermann arched as far as he could and closed his eyes tightly, both to focus on the sensations and to try and escape them.

Newton stopped moving when Hermann did. His breath was quiet and even beneath Hermann’s strained gasp. He seemed to have endless patience, his hands perfectly still where he had left them and it was only when Hermann opened his eyes and looked down again that Newton began moving his finger deeper inside, massaging in a slow circle, exactly the sort’ve teasing gesture Newt never had the focus for. If he closed his eyes again, he might even imagine a complete stranger, but every time he did, Newton stopped and waited, which only made Hermann’s skin crawl with electricity.

By the time Newton had his finger completely inside, Hermann’s face was wet with sweat and he had bit his bottom lip until it was pink, nearly red. He trembled in arms and legs at the anticipation and care, even though Newton seemed entirely unfazed by any of it. He continued to keep a tight hold at the base of Hermann’s cock, refusing to move or loosen his grip until he had worked two fingers into his subject.

Hermann groaned much louder than before, another noticeable twitch through his cock, unsure if that thought alone could have helped him come as Newton didn’t seem keen on letting such happen yet.

It was with some coordination that Newton grabbed the red plug and held it close to his chest, staring down at it intently, and rubbed his thumb and forefinger across the surface with one hand while not letting go of Hermann with the other. He managed to smear it a little, but it would require more lube and Hermann worried for a second that Newton would simply press on to see how much his subject could handle. He nearly opened his mouth to beg when Newton gave him an almost painful squeeze and let go to pick up the tube of – oh thank god, their nice bottle, Hermann could tell by the little gold frame on the sticker label – lubricant, squeezing some more onto his fingers. He coated the toy, almost going in the opposite direction and going overboard, but was simply thorough.

There was little fanfare to this. Hermann strained and Newton pressed down on his hip as he lined the toy up and pushed it a little too fast, turning it slightly to get it all the way past the first flair. Hermann gritted his teeth, his chest heaving as he was filled with the familiar silicone toy. He screwed his eyes shut when Newton didn’t tease him like Newt would, gently pulling on it, feeding a little more and asking him how he liked it, or even tapping against the flared base as extra loving nuisance. Newton didn’t care. He simply needed it to be done and did it and Hermann was surprised that it made him moan somewhere deep in his chest.

There was quiet again. Quiet and stillness until Hermann settled, letting his body adjust to the toy. Not nearly long enough to stroke his prostate, but, to be honest, he always liked the girth more than the stimulation. He wet his lips – he would need Chapstick after this, he must remember – and realized Newton was waiting for him again. So, he settled back onto the mattress, the messy spot of precome on his stomach and hip beginning to cool already, dabbed there when he jolted from the plug. He took a breath. He assessed the pain in his outer extremities, how much longer he could take lying like this, and opened his eyes.

The rule of the scene, as promised, was that Newton was permitted two toys and, truly, seeing the plug, Hermann had been curious about the second one he had picked for his experiment. His vision was a little blurry and it took him a moment to tuck his chin down and blink enough to see that Newton had decided to remove his trousers while Hermann was getting comfortable. He stood there, placid, his arms limp at his sides, breathing too slowly to be noticeable from this angle. He had kept on his shirt, the sleeves still rolled up, his gloves still sucked tight to his skin and shiny at the fingertips. The shirttails framed the head of a thin silicone toy just peaking out from between his legs. It was softer, and if he walked it would bob almost comically. Hermann’s expression faded into soft fondness before he remembered this was Newton.

Newton, who stroked the blue marbled dildo he had attached to his harness. Newton, who was discovering everything he could about this man that the previous occupant of this body thought about in their dreams, desired when they were tired, loved when they drifted away from their work.

It was a bit silly. The toy, certainly not the devotion. It was shaped like a tentacle with tiny little nubs along the underside of it and twisting just enough to look caught in mid-slither. A present to Newt _by_ Newt for a birthday, though Hermann had happily indulged because it brought the most brilliant smile to his face.

Of course, however did he plan to fuck Hermann with it, he couldn’t guess. What with the plug in the way…. And it was such a soft silicone, really, it made more sense to use it on Newt, but this was Newton’s choice.

Newton seemed to be having the same debate, standing at the foot of the examination bed. He did not frown, but his eyebrows came together in concentration and he continued to stroke the tentacle as he turned away, like an automaton set to task, looking for something. He went over to his forgotten clipboard and turned it over, the hard-laminated back scraping against the table. He scanned down the page, and Hermann strained to look over at him, the wet squelching sound of his hand on his member the loudest in the room.

“Newton?” Hermann asked softly, his voice shaking out of his throat.

Newton tossed the clipboard and it landed somewhere in the corner of the room. He vaulted onto the bed, fast, his legs framing Hermann’s, and glared down at him as he braced his hands by Hermann’s ribs, hunched over, nearly feral looking. Hermann genuinely flinched back and hurt his shoulder in the process, a quick throb of pain that dulled quickly, more a muscle strain than anything. He gulped and was too afraid to say anything again, staring up at this thing atop him. That vulnerability once more shocked him, how little he could move, that he could only look and listen. He could speak. He could. He swallowed again so his voice would be firm when he needed it.

Newton slowly looked down between them, lifting his own hips. He deliberately slid his hand down Hermann’s torso until his fingers brushed against his cock, still achingly hard even after the fright. Perhaps in despite of it. Hermann’s fingertips tingled, his scalp ached, and he whimpered pathetically when Newton took hold of him with a nitrile gloved hand, thumbing over the jewelry again.

“Newton,” Hermann whispered back again, answered only with one hand on his chest and the other still playing with his glans.

Then Newton leaned forward, bringing his face closer and closer to Hermann’s that he was afraid of teeth suddenly sinking into his flesh, before Newton started to sink back. He was surprisingly wet. He moved slow, his eyes almost closing without ever completely fluttering shut and Hermann’s neck was taught watching Newton seat himself, the nylon strap of his harness pushed aside just enough to let Hermann penetrate him, no doubt the harness tugged up tight against his clit. It was only a little uncomfortable, that nylon rub, but when Newton was completely seated on him, they both gave a surprisingly soft sigh, like they had both sat down from dinner on the sofa together to watch some television.

They stayed that way for some time. Hermann could admit he would have liked some movement sooner, but didn’t dare ask or push for this. Newton never got this far before when they tried this scene and to have him like this seemed monumental, if somewhat precarious. Of course it was allowed. It had been discussed previously, once even while Newt was riding Hermann and he had been particularly chatty throughout it until Hermann flipped them and he fucked him harder, until Newt melted into their bed, clawing at the sheets.

Newton’s fingers lightly scratched at Hermann’s abdomen. Hermann must have rocked his hips slightly and it was unclear if Newton wanted him to stop or continue. This wouldn’t do. He was aching to know, wanting to give Newton whatever he needed same as Newton had given him everything he ever needed from all this. More so, now, in fact.

“Newton,” Hermann said, forcing his voice down to a more reasonable register. Newton’s eyes snapped to his, his expression unclear. Was he angry? Confused? Sad? Hermann cleared his throat and tried again. “Newt?”

Headshake. Troubling, but not impossible to work with.

“Newton,” Hermann corrected and flexed his toes when he felt Newton clench down on him. One might even think it was possessively. “Do…do you know…what you’re doing?”

When Newton frowned, he bounced a little, more petulant that sensual, and it knocked a surprised short laugh out of Hermann before he settled again.

“Right. Sorry.” He cleared his throat, watching him again, the way his eyes tracked down to Hermann’s chest, the way he scratched gently with his gloved fingertips. Hermann couldn’t exactly dig his heels in, but he did his best to roll his hips up, trying his hardest to graze upwards, just back enough the way that Newt liked it. Newton’s eyes drooped again and he breathed a little faster, rolling his hips back to meet him. Hermann twisted his hands and finally simply made them into fists, like he was pulling invisible ropes, and tried again, rolling upwards. Newton rolling back on him.

It was the slowest turning over of an engine, a glacial catalyst, as Newton discovered a nice loping rocking motion that he liked. His hand went flat on Hermann’s chest and he leaned over, his cheeks flushing darker. Soon he was sliding up, almost all the way to the tip, and sat himself back down with a little whisper of a moan, scratchy and high-pitched in his throat. And then even that wasn’t good enough and he went faster, their bodies remembering how to slide together.

Hermann couldn’t do much. He couldn’t hold him. He couldn’t buck up as hard as he might like. He was a tool, even as much as he was enjoying himself, though he missed something even as he felt himself teetering closer to the edge, spurned on as Newton discovered how to moan properly, panting above him.

“Newton,” Hermann choked out and arched his neck towards him. “Kiss, pl—”

Newt immediately leaned over and kissed him back, crying into his mouth. The silicone tentacle was pressed tight between their stomachs, managing to catch the very few hairs Hermann had, though he hardly cared when Newt’s fingers went up into his scalp and gripped at the roots, entangling easily. He tilted his head to line up better and Hermann opened his mouth to accept him as he lapped lovingly into his husband, squeezing down on him harder.

Hermann could offer no warning other than a messy, muffled cry, his body going taught as a wire when he came, pumping into Newt. There was a shivery sliver of guilt that he had come already, but Newt didn’t seem too concerned, simply rocking atop him faster. He gripped Hermann’s hair so tight he could have pulled out clumps of it if he yanked suddenly and then his hands jumped to the pillow when he spilled over, a shout directly against Hermann’s throat.

Newt remained a frog-splayed shape atop him as they came down, breathing hard against each other. Until their heartbeats slowed down and Hermann found he was recovered enough to speak first.

“Newt?” he said and groaned when Newt squeezed down on him again. “Mn, yes, uh.” He dropped his head back to the pillow, his eyes closed. “My wrists hurt.”

Newt sat up, slower than he would have liked, and pulled off Hermann with a soft, regretful moan so he could reach the straps, quickly unbuckling them. Hermann’s instinct was to draw them close, managing with the bad shoulder, while his good arm simply flopped back down over his head. Newton picked it up and moved slow, still panting, as he rubbed at the raw red marks, kissing his fingertips. He massaged down Hermann’s arm to his elbow until Hermann pulled it to his chest and smiled, closing his eyes.

“What’s wrong?” Newt asked, his voice quiet and croaky.

“Wro—? Oh.” Hermann pinched his eyebrows together. “I think just strained a muscle,” he admitted. Newt crooned softly and rubbed Hermann’s other arm, carefully feeling around as he got closer to the shoulder, then leaned down and kissed it with promises of an ice pack and pain relivers soon. “Thank you,” Hermann answered and earned a shy kiss to his cheek.

“Do you want the plug out?” Newt asked. Hermann took a deep breath and nodded, earning another little peck to his cheek. He held his own wrists as Newt carefully removed the plug. One had to be thankful, again, that it was the smaller one.

By the time his ankles were free, Hermann realized he was cold, stiff, and exhausted, the single bedsheet beneath surprisingly damp with sweat. He very much wanted to sit up and coddle Newt for everything he had done, but even reaching for him was effort he didn’t have the energy for. To which Newt surprised him again for their special day, hopping off the bed to retrieve his trousers. There was the dull thump of his harness dropping to the floor and when he stood, fixing his glasses, he was disheveled but fully dressed. Hermann made a curious sound only for Newt to scoop him up under his knees and behind his back and pulled him into a bridal carry.

Hermann would have been knocked weak at the knees at the gesture if he wasn’t already there. He wrapped his arms comfortably around his husband’s shoulders and sighed against his chest, always surprised he could be lifted like this.

“I’ve got you,” Newt said quietly.

How very true. How very safe and loved Hermann felt, simply nodding against him as he was carried out with plans for a bath. Until he lifted his head and reached feebly back towards the room.

“My cane,” he said.

“I’ll get it,” Newt answered. “Promise.”

And he would. There was no danger it being forgotten. No, for now, they went to the bathroom, where Hermann sat on the lip of the tub, pouring in some lavender Epsom salts when the tub filled and smiled at Newt as he undressed over the bathmat by the door. The last of Newton’s clothes were pushed together into a rumpled pile, the costume and persona completely stripped when he returned to Hermann and hugged him, kissing him even, before they sank together into the larger bath – one must splurge on these things when one is married to the love of his life. Hermann made certain of that when they got the house.

And the two curled together in the hot water, lazily making out and eventually relaxing back. Newt was draped along Hermann in his arms, so Hermann combed back his hair over and over, his chest rising and falling slow enough they could nap in here if the water would have stayed warm. They would get out soon enough. That crock pot dinner was waiting for them, after all, and a discussion even later about the scene as Hermann iced his shoulder. Potential improvements. If it should be retired entirely. For now, they basked in each other’s company, in love.

“Do I get to see what was on the clipboard this time?” Hermann asked after a while. The way Newt stirred, he probably did fall asleep, just a little.

“Hmm?” Newt looked up through long dark lashes. “My notes?”

“Yes,” Hermann answered and laughed when Newt shook his head, hiding his face against Hermann’s sparrow-thin chest. “Why not?”

“They’re private. Highest cl—”

“Oh, alright,” Hermann conceded with a frustrated little smirk. “If they must be.”

“Mm-hmm.”

If the thought nagged him, he said nothing. Newt was afforded as much privacy as he desired now, in this new life they had together. Though it was nothing to be ashamed of. The clipboard had a few sheets of paper to give weight to the prop, only the top page scribbled on. Quick sketches of Hermann’s hands, his eyes. And with lines drawn out like diagrams in a medical journal, little notes that simply read, “I love you, Hermann. I love you, Hermann. I love you.”


End file.
